The Haircut
by REMUSLUPINLIVES
Summary: Remus has spent the last few months spying on Fenrir Greyback and his other werewolves. He has returned broken in more ways than one. While recovering at the Burrow, a fateful conversation with Molly has the potential to change everything.


Remus was tearing through the confines of his nightmare when Molly came to visit him. The transition was startling. One moment, he had been panting for breath, sweat coursing down his back, while the last traces of the dream replayed. The next, he was gaping at Molly Weasley.

Molly stood in the entrance of the bedroom, one foot easing the door shut. Remus saw neither her glimmering smile or her floral apron. His eyes were only for the silver platter in her arms. Bacon steamed on a chipped plate that appeared to be the art project of some young Weasley child. A tall glass, turned a bit yellow with age and constant washing, was full of fresh orange juice.

"Molly, you really don't have to do this," Remus said.

"Nonsense," she laughed.

She carried the distance from the door to his bed with much more speed than a woman her size and age should have been capable of. However, she was wise enough to place the platter on his lap with extreme tenderness. Despite the gentleness, Remus grimaced against the wave of pain. His legs were screaming in agony.

"You are our guest here. I would be a poor hostess if I didn't even feed you. Especially since- with all the kids away- there's no one but Arthur to eat my cooking."

Remus picked at a piece of bacon so hot it singed his fingers. Even when Molly clucked at him to be careful, he did not hesitate. The sizzling oil seared his tongue, but he was so ravenous that he did not notice.

"My mother used to say that guests were like fish. After three days they started to stink. And I do believe this is my third day at the Burrow."

Molly sat down on the foot of the bed, careful to not touch his tightly bandaged legs.

"You aren't one of Arthur's in-laws come down to Christmas with us, believe me. You are a dear friend, and we are very glad to see you."

The bantering and scolding Molly faded away for a moment and was replaced by a motherly figure who stared at him with kindness and concern.

"We've been so worried about you, Remus."

To his great disappointment, he felt his appetite fade away. It was hard to eat when the memories came back. Despite himself, the shadows attacked again. The wounds from his torture, the deep purple bruises on his stomach and the snapped bones of his fingers, burned. His body became one mass of pain. And it was not just physical anguish. Dark memories plagued his mind. The capture. The torture. The humiliation. And worst of all, the revelation.

"I'm sorry," Molly said, "I didn't mean to bring up bad memories."

"The memories were fresh enough, I assure you. There was nothing you could have done to prevent them."

"I told Dumbledore this was a terrible idea. You infiltrating Greyback's werewolf colony! It was just a matter of time until they caught you."

"I have too many marks of wizard society on me," he agreed.

"And even if they hadn't caught you, that is a hellish environment for you. Being forced to see... others. Other people like you. Well, not like you. Not like you at all. But... you know."

"Werewolves. You can say the word, Molly. That's what I am."

"I know, but I don't mean other ones like you. I mean the worst ones. The cruel and savage ones who make the rest of you look like monsters. I can promise you, Tonks was furious. About you being sent away, I mean."

"I imagine she was," Remus said, smiling despite himself.

Molly watched him for a moment, then she gestured to the breakfast tray impatiently.

"Keep eating."

His appetite was long gone, but he was not brave enough to ignore a direct order from Molly Weasley. Obediently, Remus leaned over the tray and continued to eat the bacon. The oil was no longer burning, but he still felt compelled to cool it down with generous swigs of the orange juice.

"That's why she came to rescue you. Remus, she would have gone half mad if Dumbledore had forbade her."

"I don't want to hear it," he interrupted. "She shouldn't have done that."

"She saved your life!"

"She walked into a den of dangerous werewolves on the night of the full moon."

"She's an Auror. She can take care of herself."

Remus shook his head violently. He did not trust himself to put the anger, fear, shame, and indignation into words.

"She saved your life," Molly repeated.

"I could have taken care of myself."

Molly only laughed harshly.

"Remus, that's not what I've heard. You had been starved, beaten, and tortured for three days. And Tonks said that when the full moon rose, the others set upon you in wolf form."

"And I was holding my own."

"Against an entire coven of fierce werewolves?" Molly demanded.

"Yes. I had almost killed Greyback himself."

"Remus, you can't even walk. I can't believe that you were able to fight an entire pack of werewolves."

"You can do incredible things when you're in mortal danger," he shrugged.

"Keep eating," she ordered.

Remus returned to his breakfast, but even the smell of food made him feel sick.

"Molly, you really don't have to do this. Breakfast in bed and everything. I feel bad."

"Remus, once you can walk again, you're more than welcome to come downstairs and have breakfast yourself. Until then, it will be like this. Are we clear?"

"Of course," he muttered. "But still, I feel guilty. I don't want to keep you away from everything else you need to be doing."

"You won't get rid of me that easily, Remus Lupin."

Remus was about to protest, but Molly cut him off with a sharp glare.

"Given the extent of your injuries, you need to rest. But I also worry about leaving you alone for too long."

"Tonks and Kingsley keep me busy enough."

"But they both have long hours at work and even longer raids for the Order. So much as Tonks would like to be here every day, you're stuck with me for company for a bit longer."

Remus chewed a piece of bacon suspiciously.

"Oh come on!" Molly declared. "You have to eat more than that to get a little fat back on your bones. Have you seen yourself in the mirror lately?"

Remus winced. His first day at the Burrow, he had indeed caught a glimpse of himself. It was so frightening that he had jinxed the mirror to turn opaque. His hair, which usually feel in neat waves to his shoulder, was now long and matted. He usually stayed fastidiously clean-shaven, but during his stay in the werewolf colony, he had grown a ragged beard. Since the wolves were quite suspicious of personal hygiene, he now looked rather like a post-Azkaban Sirius Black.

The three days of starvation and torture, followed by a difficult transformation and a brutal fight, had wreaked even more havoc on his looks. Remus was always a thin man, but now his deathly pale skin clung so tightly to the razor sharp outlines of his bones that he looked like the skeleton at the back of Snape's office. The old slashing scars across his face were now defined with impossible clarity. The torture had left his bones snapped and his legs twisted. After his mad brawl with the other wolves, his entire body covered with shallow slashes.

"I'm surprised I don't terrify you," Remus said at last.

"I'm also surprised you don't terrify me," she said.

Molly leaned forward and scrutinized his face.

"You'll be fine. Keep eating and you'll get a little flesh back on those bones. That will make worlds of difference. And your injuries are fixing up quite nicely. Good thing Tonks is such a skilled healer! When your scratches close up and your bones knit, you'll start looking much less frightening. That just leaves the hair, but that's easily fixed."

Remus nodded at the prognosis, but the action sent a shock of pain up his spine.

"Would you like me to do something about it?" Molly asked.

"The pain?"

"The hair."

"Oh."

Remus was taken aback. At last, he shrugged.

A few minutes later, everything was ready. Molly dragged a chair from across the hall and set it up in the bathroom. She briefly paused to ask what had happened to the mirror, but she seemed satisfied once he explained he had jinxed it so as not to see his frightening reflection. After Remus had drained one of Tonks's pain-killers, Molly slung his arm around her neck and pulled him up from the bed. She helped him shuffle to the chair waiting on the tile floor of the bathroom. Remus collapsed into it with relief and hardly noticed when Molly wrapped the towel around his shoulders.

She flicked her wand a few times around his jaw. First, his beard was trimmed to a neat stubble. Then, even that was scraped away. Remus rubbed his hand down his neck. It was good, after so many months living in squalor as a spy, to feel that there might be a face behind the beard, a true person behind the mask of the savage werewolf.

"Remus, did you hear me?"

"No," he admitted.

"I was saying that I never really mastered the actual spells for cutting hair. I just do it the Muggle way."

"The Muggle way?"

She waved a pair of kitchen shears.

"Arthur thinks it's more exciting, and I think it's easier."

"Fine with me," Remus shrugged.

"The way you had it before?" she asked.

Remus shook his head and found to his delight that Tonks's potion had even removed the pain in his neck.

"No, I am sick unto death of having long hair. Something much shorter."

"Any style in particular?"

Remus gave her a look that he hoped said 'I am an exhausted and wounded man who is recovering from brutal torture by werewolves. Do you really think I care how my hair looks?' However, he suspected that Molly just thought he was glaring at her. He seemed to have lost his nonverbal conversational skills in the months he was away from civilization. His actions now seemed course and heavy-handed.

"Something short. Military maybe. Something that won't take any effortand won't ge t in my way. Beyond that I don't care."

"Alright," Molly shrugged.

For almost a minute, they sat in silence. He was almost lulled into a slumber by the pleasing snipping sound of the scissors. He glanced down at the floor and saw a growing pile of brown hair.

"It's embarrassing that I'm still catching my breath," he said at last. "From the walk from my bed to here."

"You're very badly hurt. It's only to be expected." Molly assured him.

Remus nodded his assent.

"However..." she said.

"Yes?"

Molly paused for a moment. Even without seeing her face, Remus could imagine that her lips were pursed and that there was a crease in her forehead.

"Yes?" he repeated.

"I'm afraid this is going to come out much too short."

It took Remus several seconds to realize that she was talking about his hair.

"Molly, I really don't care how it looks," he promised her. "Just shave it all off if you're having difficulties."

She snorted that she was going to do nothing of the sort.

"But Molly, you were going to say something else."

"I was. Remus, you are badly hurt. When Tonks told me the full extent of your injuries, I wasn't even sure you would survive. But I've seen you wounded before. It's never been like this."

"You've seen me wounded in battle. This is torture. There is a difference between catching a spell during a firefight and having it cast on you, time after time, by someone who delights in hurting you."

"Yes, I imagine that must be different. But Remus, even when your injuries have been severe, you've always made a good comeback. While your body is healing, you are chipper and friendly and optimistic."

"And?" he asked.

"Well you're not any of those things right now, are you? You seemed defeated. Like some fire inside has gone out. There's a dead look behind your eyes. Like after Sirius died. What's different?"

"The torture was intense," he shrugged.

"Don't shrug, this will come out crooked."

Remus sat still and stared, rather moodily, into the drab guest bedroom of the Burrow.

"Remus, I don't want to trivialize the horrors you endured. You are certainly entitled to a long period of dreary convalescence. But you make me wonder if your real wounds are not the ones we can see. That there's something under the dark bruises or the broken bones."

Remus was silent.

"I'm right, aren't I?" she asked.

"Yes," he said at last.

"You need to talk to someone. Those wounds will never heal if you don't."

"I know. But Molly, this is just too horrible."

"Don't coddle me. I can probably guess what it is. You've spent your entire life trying to be normal. Obviously you would have a terrible time in a place where you not only have to see the savage wolves we all fear, but actually pretend to be one. It's a horrid fate."

"It is," he agreed.

"But there's something else, isn't there?"

Remus paused for a moment. He almost blurted everything out. His pain could become her pain too. Maybe she could share some of the poison. Maybe she could console him and give him good advice. At the absolute worst, she would understand his sudden turn toward depression. But the words froze on his tongue.

"I'm not ready to talk about it."

"I respect that. Oh dear, this is coming out far too short."

"It's fine."

"Remus, you didn't even look at it. You can't say that."

"It's fine, I don't care."

"Alright. And yes, I respect that you aren't ready to talk about it. But my question is... are you truly not ready? Or just unwilling show how deep your scars run?"

When Remus fell silent, Molly knew she was right.

"You can't be afraid to let people in. No one will judge you or abandon you or hurt you. We just love you. Tonks most of all. She just wants the old relationship back- the one from before you left to spy on Greyback. And she's terrified that something has changed. Terrified that the intimacy is gone forever."

"I love her!" Remus burst out.

"I know you do."

"She's intelligent and tough and witty and beautiful and kind and gentle. I love her so much it hurts."

"Wonderful. You love her and she loves you. I don't understand where all this conflict and tension is coming from," Molly clucked.

"I have to break it off."

The gentle sound of the scissors, the pleasant clicks that had formed the background for their conversation, fell silent.

"Don't you dare," Molly hissed.

"I have to. Our relationship is an impossible fantasy, and deep down we've always known it. How did we manage to deceive ourselves? But I see the truth now. Molly, it's impossible. These animals will never stop hunting me. And I'm one of them. No matter that we mask me behind some veneer of respectability, I will always be a werewolf like them. I am incredibly dangerous, to both of us."

"If you leave her, you will break both of you in a way that can't be fixed."

Remus scoffed.

"She'll be fine. Tonks is a strong and intelligent feminist who doesn't need a boyfriend. And if she decides she wants one, she is beautiful and charming. She can find a much better man than me."

"No she couldn't," Molly whispered. "You two are perfect for each other."

"If I was a human, we would be."

Molly slapped him.

"Don't you dare say that. You are human, Remus. And you are one of the best humans I know. You are patient, gentle, and caring. You will never betray Tonks. You will never hurt her."

Remus felt the color rise in his cheeks.

"Molly, look at me. Do you see these wounds? These scars? Do I really look safe and normal?"

"Not a valid point," she snapped. "Remus, you got these injuries after being savagely tortured by our enemies. They are war wounds. I don't see how that makes you less human."

"But I have many, many other injuries that do. In my extensive collection of scars, a revoltingly large proportion are self-inflicted."

As Remus spoke, he traced three fingers along his most obvious scars, the great slashes that drew from his ear to below his chin. When people looked at him, they saw those marks first. They rarely saw anything beyond that. He could see their eyes follow the great ripping tears through his cheek. Their faces would harden with fear and suspicion. The scrutiny was so embarrassing that Remus often wore a hat tipped to one side that cast the left side of his face in shadow.

"You personally, Remus Lupin, didn't do any of those to yourself. The wolf did them."

"Molly, I am the wolf. And the wolf is me."

"No," she declared as she resumed the haircut. "No, you are not the wolf. It takes control of you one night a month. And I don't see how it's right to define you by a part that rules for such a small portion of time."

"It is an awfully big part of my character," Remus said.

"But you only become a wolf for what... twelve hours a month? When you think about it, that's not a lot."

"It's long enough to make me a monster."

He heard Molly squeal in indignation and start to stutter out a response. Remus cut her off.

"Don't! Don't, please. You can't deny it. I am legally and officially a dangerous creature. Just check the Ministry of Magic's index of monsters. Werewolves are top of the list."

"The Ministry of Magic?" Molly asked incredulously. "You listen to the Ministry? Last year, the Ministry said that Harry and Dumbledore were liars and that You-Know-Who hadn't returned. This year they say that Rufus Scrimgeour will make a great Minister of Magic. And you trust what they have to say about werewolves?"

Despite himself, Remus laughed. In the last few months, he had laughed sardonically and bitterly quite a bit. However, he could not remember the last time he had laughed with true and honest delight. The very sound uplifted him as efficiently as one of Tonks's potions.

"Alright, I see the flaws in my argument. But seriously, Molly, we can't continue to ignore the danger of my condition. I am indeed a monster. If you ran into me on a full moon, none of these protestations about the strength of my character would save you."

"Remus-"

"I mean, do you realize I transformed without a Wolfsbane potion right next to your son?"

"Remus-"

He waved her off. His voice became choked with emotion and he felt tears spring into his eyes. This was one of the memories he had tried to bury deep.

"I transformed without a potion right next to Ron, Harry, and Hermione. I could have killed them. I could have worse than killed them. They've been careful to never tell me the details, but I know the wild strength I have in wolf form. It's a miracle that nothing happened."

"I don't blame you. It was a simple mistake."

"How in the world did I make such a mistake? How? How would I forget to take the potion? The Wolfsbane gives me my humanity back, or at least some of it. I've never forgotten it!"

"Remus," Molly consoled, "you had just realized that your best friend was innocent of mass murder and of betraying the Potters. I can only imagine the state you were in. Of course the potion slipped your mind."

"Would you be so calm and reassuring if I had killed Ron? Or if I had changed him?"

Molly said nothing.

"I put your son and his friends in great danger. By all intents and purposes, you should treat me with terror and revulsion. Instead I am a guest in your home. Now you're feeding me, cutting my hair, and giving me advice on my love life. I can't imagine any of this would be happening if I had killed your son."

"No, you wouldn't be our guest if you had killed Ron," Molly said. "But that's not because Arthur and I would have blamed you for what the wolf did-"

"You'd have every right in the world to blame me. I forgot to use the damned potion-"

"You wouldn't be our guest because I don't think you would still be alive."

Remus fell silent for awhile.

"You're right," he said at last. "If the wolf ever bites or kills an innocent person, I will destroy it. There's only one way to do that. And then I always start to wonder if it would be better if I took... preventive measures. Take care of the problem before I can hurt anyone. It's just a matter of time, really."

"Don't say that, Remus," she hissed, "don't you dare even think about it. There are too many people who need and love you."

He heaved a great sigh and sunk farther into the wooden chair, utterly drained.

"Don't be offended, Molly, but are you almost done? I need to sleep."

"No. You're not escaping that easily. We still have issues we need to sort through, and I won't let you go back to bed with your haircut half finished."

Remus wanted to protest, but there was a steely quality in Molly's voice that he rarely heard. Arguing with her would be useless.

"Oh my," Molly declared. "I see why you wear your hair long."

"Why?"

"There is a very nasty scar on the back of your neck."

"Oh yes, there is. It's not important though," he said hurriedly.

"It's an awful scar. Deep and jagged. I can tell this one bothers you."

Remus cracked what he hoped was a winning smile. "Molly, look at me. Look at these slashes on my face. I have scars all over. Do you really think I'm going to be so insecure about one little scratch?"

"Yes. Yes, I do. Remus, there is something about this scar. The moment you realized I saw it, every muscle in your shoulder and neck tensed dramatically."

Remus cursed under his breath.

"Alright, no point lying, I guess. Yes, that scar is particularly significant. It's... the one. The bite I got when I was a child."

"I thought so."

Molly traced the jagged course of the scar. Her light touch made Remus shiver.

"I must commend you, Molly. Not even Tonks guessed the significance of that scar until I told her. And she is usually quite good at peeling back all my secrets."

Molly said nothing. She stared at the scar with such concentration that Remus feared her gaze could bore a hole through his neck. Molly was right to notice that this scar made him uncomfortable. It had always brought back particularly unpleasant memories, but now, after the revelations of the past few days, it was downright excruciating.

"See, Remus, this scar is all the proof I need to see that you aren't a monster. Tonks told me a story about that scar once, a story that gets me a little misty-eyed every time I think about it. She said that you have forgiven the wolf who bit you."

Remus squirmed. The conversation was unbearable. He wanted to rise out of the chair, toss the towel off his neck, and storm away from the Burrow. If he could walk without assistance, he probably would have done just that. Yet his extensive injuries left him no choice but to sit submissively. He tapped his finger on the arm of the chair and rapped his foot on the wooden floor. Both sounded with a rapid, staccato beat. Yet Molly was unaware of his private agony.

"She said you feel absolutely no resentment toward the wolf that has caused you so much pain and agony. You even feel sorry for it because you can only imagine the guilt you would feel if you ever bite someone. Remus, I think this is proves you are no monster, but a human, and a remarkable one at that. If you can really feel pity for someone who has made your life much more difficult than it would have been-"

"Stop it!" He yelled.

He collapsed and buried his head in his hands. Molly hovered behind him. He could only imagine the shock on her face. Remus knew he was wrong to yell, but he was past control. While Molly talked, the pain had piled up inside of him, until it hurt more than he thought possible. He had intended to whisper, but the bottled rage had become unbearable.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Remus, what's wrong?"

For a few more seconds, he did not move. His face was buried in his palms and his fingers dug into his skull so hard it hurt. His muscles were so tensed that the pain cut through the numbing effect of Tonks's potions. At last, when his heart had calmed and his breath steadied, he resumed his previous posture. His face was just as calm and impassive as always.

"I'm sorry. I'm fine."

"No," she said in a dangerous tone. "No, you're not. Don't you dare force that back inside. Tell me."

"Alright. Molly, I learned... I learned that," he gulped and readjusted the mask of composure he always wore. "I learned the identity of the wolf who bit me."  
He heard her sharp intake of breath. The click of the scissors stopped, but Molly still did not allow him to turn and look at her.

"I don't know if I ever told you, but my mother was an Auror. She worked in the magical creatures department. In fact, she held the same job that Tonks holds today. At the time, she was working to track down a very dangerous band of werewolves led by a then unknown brigand named... Fenrir Greyback."  
"Oh my," she whispered.

"You know the stories?"

"Every mother does. He bites his victims on purpose... oh god Remus."

Remus nodded.

"He positions himself near his victims on the night of the full moon. Sometimes, he will create a diversion to lure them into the woods. That's what he did to me. To hurt my mother and to send a message to the other Aurors."

"Remus, I'm so sorry," Molly whispered.

"That's what he told me. After my third day of torture. When my leg was broken and I was tied to a post. While the full moon was rising behind me. He was trying to provoke me. So that when we transformed I wouldn't sit back and die passively. So that, wounds and all, I would join the fray and try to murder each and every one of them."

"Well that plan backfired. Tonks said you nearly gutted Greyback."

"He lived," Remus said in a dead tone.

"But so did you. They left you for dead, but you lived."

"It doesn't matter!" Remus yelled.

The storm inside of him broke through all the dams he had set up. Suddenly he was doubled over. The shameful tears he had kept back since his capture suddenly came. Before he could force his emotions back into his tightly controlled mask, he was crying.

"It doesn't matter that I lived or that I wounded him. Molly, I've been a werewolf for almost thirty years. It has destroyed my life. And it's more than the pain of the transformations. I can't get a job, I am judged wherever I turn for help, and most people revile me as a monster. Worst of all, I have to live with the fear that with one slipup, I can bring someone I love with me into this curse."

He pulled himself upright, but it felt like he was dragging his own limp body uphill. Remus had stopped weeping, but the pain was coursing through his veins, a pain as severe as when Sirius had fallen through the veil at the Department of Mysteries.

"Remus," Molly clucked, "get ahold of yourself."

"What?" he asked in shock.

Molly straightened his head and resumed his haircut.

"I said get ahold of yourself. Suck it up. Tonks won't go to bed with you if you mope around."

Remus felt his mouth drop open in shock. He wasn't offended. But he had expected Molly to hug him and share in his misery.

"What?" he repeated.

"Oh stop sitting there with your mouth hanging open. It makes you look slow."

Remus's mouth closed with a quick snap. "I'm just..."

"Remus, listen to me. The damage is done. Your bite, as you said, was three decades ago. The fact that you were bitten on purpose does not change anything-"

Remus tried to interrupt but she cut him off.

"No, listen to me. Your condition isn't any worse because it happened on purpose. All that's changed is your perspective on it. Before, you could act like a forgiving martyr to the wolf that bit you. Obviously, that's gone. You need to stop being the victim and become the victor."

"What do you mean?"

"Kill Fenrir Greyback."

Remus was certainly not expecting that answer.

"Remus, sweetie, the man that hurt you is still out there. He can still bite people and curse them with your disease. So you need to kill him. Stop him from hurting anyone else-"

"I mean, I agree, but-"

"And I would recommend that when you do catch him, kill him slowly. With your bare hands preferably. Maybe even strangulation. Yes, that sounds like a good idea. Let him watch you the life is choked out of him. Let your triumphant face be the last thing he sees in this world. Then he would know as he's dying that biting you was the biggest mistake of his entire life."

"Molly!"

Despite her protestations, Remus whirled. Molly stood behind him, the same as always. The flustered pink she got in her cheeks when a cake burned. The same ridiculous floral apron. Regular Molly.

"What, you don't think it's good advice?" she demanded.

"No, I think it's great advice. It's just the sort of advice I expect from, oh, Mad-Eye Moody. Not you."

Molly shrugged and gestured for him to turn back around. "Yes, that's a mistake most people make. They see a chubby woman with lots of kids and even more recipe books, and they think I'm some sort of fairy godmother. That I will always pat you on the head and give you tea when you are feeling down. Which is true. But I'm not your grandmother, Remus. Arthur always laughs when I say this, but I am more dangerous than people think."

"I believe it," he promised. "Right now you seem fierce enough to take on Bellatrix Lestrange."

"Remus, all the people I love are involved in a brutal war. My world could collapse any day. It's hanging by a thread. That makes you tougher than people think."

"Yes I can see that."

"You seem to be in shock."

"I am. Believe me, Molly, I am."

"I still think it's good advice."

"Oh I do too," Remus said hurriedly, "I mean, he's a dangerous Death Eater. I'm sure I would have killed him anyway. But I hadn't thought of slow strangulation. And that's something that you would expect me to think of. Since I'm... well..."

"A killer," Molly said in the same light and cheerful tone she might use to announce a fresh batch of cookies.

"Yes. And with any luck I will soon have killed Greyback himself. Thank you, it's good advice."

"Of course it's good advice," Molly echoed. "I always give good advice. But that doesn't mean anyone in my family ever follows it."

"Well then I'll be your first."

Molly laughed, and Remus could hear a softer edge in her tone.

"Remus, please don't think that I am belittling your troubles. You have been through more pain than I can possibly imagine. Pain and fear and isolation. It's a miracle that you've come through all of that with your sanity intact."

"Have I?" he muttered ruefully.

Molly ignored him. "So please don't be offended that I cut you off. I just saw that you were about to reopen all your old wounds. Would you agree with me that your goal should be to reduce the pain caused by the wolf to the barest minimum?"

"Yes, I suppose so," Remus said.

"I understand that Tonks has come up with potions and other tricks that reduce the pain of your transformations?"

"She has. She's an amazing healer."

"Well I think you should apply that principle to every facet your life. Let the wolf play as small a role as possible. Go ahead and live. Don't hold yourself back."

"Why do I get the feeling this is heading in an ominous direction?" Remus asked.

"Am I correct in saying that if you were not a werewolf, you would fall on your knees before Tonks and say you want to marry her tomorrow and have lots of sex and babies?"

"Oh, absolutely," he admitted without embarrassment.

"Then listen to me, Remus. Both of you are strong and independent people. But if you break off your relationship, both of you will be hurt. And some day, maybe it will be decades after we win this war, or maybe it will be as you're bleeding out on a battlefield next week, you will regret it. And it will be just one more terrible thing that has happened to you because of your condition, one more way being a werewolf has screwed up your life. Well don't give Fenrir Greyback that pleasure."

"How can I bring Tonks into that risk-"

"Don't coddle her! She's a tough Auror. In case you've forgotten, she was the one who rescued you from the werewolf camp. You had taken down, what, three wolves? She took down a dozen."

"Give me some credit! I had a broken leg. I was half-starved. She had a wand and all sorts of fancy Auror equipment; I just had teeth and claws."

"Remus, I'm not trying to turn this into a competition," Molly said in the same tone of voice she used when Ron had done something particularly hopeless. "I'm just trying to say that if she can beat twelve vicious werewolves that want to kill her, I'm sure she can handle herself against one tame werewolf that would die before he hurt her."

Remus shook his head and was on the verge of explaining that if he truly loved her, he should keep her out of danger. But as he readied his words, he had the distinct sense that it was a merely a shield that he was using again and again. Deep inside, he knew Molly was right. He paused for a moment. All the old arguments circled through his head. The danger. The complications. And above all, his fear of hurting her.

Whenever he tried to articulate the arguments that had once seemed so damningly strong, they were swatted away by one image. He had been on the ground, fighting and snapping against a huge black wolf on top of him. Then there had been a flash of green and the dark form fell off him. He had turned to see Tonks stepping into the mouth of the cave, a wand in her right hand and a long silver dagger in her left. She had never looked more beautiful than in that moment, pink hair tied back, no makeup, face set in a hard scowl of concentration.

"Have you finished the haircut?" Remus asked.

Molly tutted at him. "You're really hopeless, Remus Lupin. Yes, I have. So now you can run away from another conversation?

"No. I want to get up and hug you, but I don't want you to accidentally cut my ear off."

"One moment," Molly said as she made the last few snips.

Remus could hear the intense, shaking delight in her voice. When she paused, he rose out of the chair and embraced Molly in a crushing hug.

"Thank you," he whispered

Tonks slammed the door of the Burrow behind her and nearly tripped over the coat rack. Molly ignored the clumsy entrance and waved to her from further back in the house.

"Lovely to see you, Tonks. Cup of tea?"

"So sorry, Molly. I wanted to come yesterday but the raid went long."

Molly clucked that it was not a problem, but Tonks did not hear her. She busily pulled a series of fragile green flasks out of her bag. They contained the assortment of potions she had spent most of last night brewing. While she explained the purpose and dosage of each brew, a slight tremor in her voice betrayed her. Her heart was hammering wildly through the tightly controlled facade of calm.

For the last few days, all of her visits to the Burrow had been heart-wrenching. Remus looked like a corpse. As severe as his wounds were, she found his emotional state even more disturbing. He looked at her with dead eyes and often pulled away whenever she tried to touch him.

"How is he?" she whispered.

"Tonks! How wonderful to see you," Remus said.

Tonks whirled in shock to see Remus walking down the stairs unassisted. He was still deathly thin, but he looked less like a starved prisoner of war. The scratches on his face had started to heal up nicely, and his limp was less pronounced. The beard was gone, and his hair had been cut quite short. Most importantly, Remus was unable to fight back a goofy smile.

"What is it?" she laughed.

"I'm just happy to see you."

Remus reached out and gave her a long hug. Tonks was stunned. Every time she had visited him, he was feverish and deep in turmoil. She had been bracing herself for loaded stares, silent recriminations, and emotional distress. Instead Remus just beamed at her.

"Would you like to go for a walk?" he asked.

"A walk? Are you mad, Remus Lupin? I was here two days ago and you couldn't walk across the room without collapsing."

Remus shrugged. "We won't go far. And you can support me if I fall."

"There's a meadow not far off that might suit your purposes," Molly piped up.

"What purposes would that be?" Tonks asked.

"Nothing," Remus said in the deceptively smooth tone he always employed when he was lying.

Tonks shrugged and strolled with Remus to the front door. He made a great show swinging it open with his still stick-like arms. Before he stepped out into the threshold, Remus looked back and winked at Molly. Tonks did not understand, but she had a sneaking suspicion that she would find out very soon.


End file.
